REFLECTIONS ON MY
JOURNEY THROUGH
ACADEME
by Lonnell E. Johnson
How I got over,
How I got over, my Lord.
My soul looks back and wonders
How I got over.
(traditional gospel song)
ecently, while celebrating my 60th birthday, I reflected on my
rather circuitous journey into higher education. Having ventured into teaching on the college level somewhat late in life,
I marveled at the providential circumstances leading to my present
position as a professor of English at Otterbein College.
R
At 25, as a registered pharmacist drafted into the army, I discovered the
joy of classroom teaching when I became a pharmacy instructor in the
Medical Field Service School at Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Fifteen years
later at 40, I discovered untold pleasures studying literature and teaching
writing as a graduate student pursuing a master’s degree in English. I ventured back into pharmacy, working part-time in a hospital while enrolled
in a Ph.D. program in English with a minor in Afro-American Studies. I
continued to work part-time as a hospital pharmacist while teaching fullLonnell Johnson has worked in many careers: pharmacy, editing, administration, public
relations, and teaching. He has published numerous scholarly articles and authored two
collections of poetry. Currently, he is Professor of English at Otterbein College.
THE NEA HIGHER EDUCATION JOURNAL | 49
time in English for eight years following the completion of my doctorate.
When I accepted my current faculty position in Ohio eight years ago, I
gave up pharmacy work.
have encountered influential teachers, from grade school through graduate school and beyond. Now that I am a teacher, I recognize more
clearly their influence and pay tribute to some of those who have touched
my life in powerful ways. Some of these teachers are no longer with us,
but their legacies still impact me as
I endeavor to affect those students
whom I am privileged to teach.
One teacher who made a lasting impression upon me was my
6th grade math teacher John A.
Peoples, Jr.—my first Black male
teacher, who modeled for me a
competent, caring teacher who
taught me much more than mathematics. He later earned his doctorate, becoming a principal and subsequently going on to become
president of Jackson State
University in his native Mississippi, where he led that historically Black
college to a new level of excellence during his long tenure as its president.
A number of high school teachers introduced me to literature and the
love for the English language. I was introduced to the power of poetry in
my freshman year of high school when Mrs. Frances Uncapher, my
English teacher, read aloud the narrative poetry of William Cullen Bryant,
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier, James Whitcomb
Riley, and other “three-named” authors. She read their works and discussed their poetry as if she were personally acquainted with each author.
In my junior year, Mrs. Hortense House required our English class to
memorize two poems: “Barter” by Sara Teasdale, and “The Road Not
Taken” by Robert Frost. More than 40 years later, I can still recite those
works from memory and have incorporated them into a number of composition and literature classes I have taught at Otterbein College.
I also recall the words of one of my senior English teachers, Mrs.
Nathalie Zeidman, who exhorted her students to “Read! Read! Read!” I
followed her advice, and, upon graduation from high school in 1960,
enrolled as a pharmacy student at Purdue University, where I continued
to meet teachers who would have a dynamic impact upon my life.
Years later, I recognized that the seeds of the poet I would later
become had been sown in my college years. In 1961, I happened to notice
a poster advertising a lecture on the Purdue campus. Dr. Rosey Pool was
I
Peoples later earned his
doctorate, becoming a
principal and
subsequently going on to
become president of
Jackson State University
in his native Mississippi.
50 | Thought & Action SUMMER 2003
going to present a lecture “Beyond the Blues,” a discussion and reading of
Black poetry. At the time, I was a pharmacy major but thought the topic
sounded interesting, and so I went just out of curiosity. Aside from Phyllis
Wheatley and Paul Laurence Dunbar, most of the poets she mentioned
were unknown to me. The lecture sparked an interest in reading more of
these and other poets, and two years later when I took an oral interpretation course, I put together a reading of works by African American poets
for my final presentation. Since that time African American poetry has
become one of the passions of my
life.
I completed a
dissertation in 1986
entitled ‘Portrait of the
Bondslave in the Bible:
Slavery and Freedom
in the Works of Four
Afro-American Poets.’
wenty years later in 1981, I
enrolled in the Ph.D. program
at Indiana University. I completed
a dissertation in 1986 entitled
“Portrait of the Bondslave in the
Bible: Slavery and Freedom in the
Works of Four Afro-American
Poets.” Remarkably, I first heard of
three of those poets at that providential lecture in 1961.
As an undergraduate student at
Purdue, I encountered many excellent instructors, but unquestionably the
most memorable was my speech instructor, who became my mentor and
dear friend, Professor William M. Hardy. During my junior year in pharmacy school, he was the first and only person to suggest that I consider
changing my major from pharmacy to English or speech. For purely pragmatic reasons I did not follow his advice but went on to graduate from
Purdue in pharmacy, becoming licensed in Indiana and practicing hospital pharmacy for a number of years before I realized the wisdom of his
counsel.
After a period of time, I reestablished correspondence with Bill Hardy,
and he encouraged me to go on to graduate school in English. Years later,
our paths would cross again when I accepted a position teaching English
at Fayetteville State University prior to his retirement from the University
of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Eventually I went on to graduate school at Emporia State University in
Kansas where I met exceptional teachers while earning my master's degree
in English. When I returned to Indiana as a Consortium on Institutional
Cooperation (CIC) Minorities Fellow at Indiana University in
Bloomington, I was introduced to other teachers who also made a difference in my life. I took my first seminar as a doctoral student under
Professor John M. McCluskey, Jr., author, scholar in African-American literature, and former CIC Director, who introduced me to the Harlem
T
THE NEA HIGHER EDUCATION JOURNAL | 51
Renaissance. This rich period in African-American literature provided a
fertile field for a number of articles and inspired courses that I have
taught at Fayetteville State and Otterbein College. McCluskey went on to
direct my dissertation and remains a valued friend and colleague.
t an Otterbein faculty retreat a couple of years ago, I met Parker J.
Palmer, master teacher and consultant on higher education. Later a
number of faculty members read and discussed his book To Know As We
Are Known: Education as a Spiritual Journey. At the risk of offering a cliché,
my encounter with Dr. Palmer “changed my life” in that it altered significantly my classroom ethos. I have incorporated his definition of teaching—“To create a space where the community of truth is practiced,”1—
into my composition and literature syllabi, elaborating upon the concept
with this statement:
A
One of the primary objectives of this course is to establish the classroom
as a “safe haven” where fruitful, meaningful dialogue and exchange of
ideas take place. We strive to provide a place where ideas may be challenged and minds may be changed or positions affirmed, but where ideas,
views, and responses are listened to with respect and where courtesy is
always maintained. We will engage in dialogue with the texts through
reading and writing and with one another through discussion and peer
editing.
52 | Thought & Action SUMMER 2003
In one of the sessions conducted by Parker Palmer at the faculty
retreat, participants were asked to describe a moment when we knew we
were destined to be a teacher. I related a particular incident that had
occurred early in my teaching career.
I had been teaching a freshman composition and literature class, covering how to organize an essay with a clearly stated thesis. As I had so
many times before, I discussed the importance of presenting an engaging
introduction to catch the reader’s attention. I then emphasized the significance of the body of the paper,
the heart of the discussion. As I
was about to discuss the conclusion, a student in the rear of the
classroom interrupted me in midsentence. She startled the class as
she blurted out, “I get it!” She
explained that she now understood how to organize her paper.
As I looked into her sparkling eyes
and smiling face, I detected a
familiar look of enlightenment.
That instant of recognition with
that student was a golden moment
in which I knew I was born to teach.
That instant of
recognition with that
student was a golden
moment in which I
knew I was born to
teach.
or me teaching is the convergence of what I do for a living with what
I do for pleasure. Frost in his poem “Two Tramps at Mudtime” relates
this challenge of merging these two ideals:
F
But yield to who will their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future’s sakes.2
I concur with William Vitek in his “Reflections on the Teaching Art”:
I prefer to see teaching as an art and having many wonderful intangibles. To do so leaves open the possibility that what we do in the classroom works even if we are not always certain why. It invites spontaneity
3
and creativity. . . .
The teacher as artist is certainly a valid concept. Indeed, I continue to
develop a deep appreciation for those education professionals who have
THE NEA HIGHER EDUCATION JOURNAL | 53
elevated the art of teaching to new levels of excellence. Unfortunately,
teachers are among those whose artistic endeavors are often undervalued
and unappreciated. To some extent I was inspired to write this essay to
express my gratitude to some of the notable masters of the teaching art.
Shortly after arriving at one of my last teaching appointments, one of
the professors in the English Department retired after more than thirty
years of teaching. As a kind of self-appointed “poet laureate”, I volunteered to write a poem that I recited at her retirement dinner. The title is
taken from a statement by Leslie Fiedler, noted literary critic, who commented that “The teacher’s task is to patiently explain.”
This sonnet seems an appropriate way to pay tribute to those specific
teachers whom I have mentioned and a host of other excellent educators,
all of whom I could not possibly call by name but who helped to shape
my life.
The Teacher’s Task
For all those called to teach
The smallest spark can kindle a desire,
Ignite a fire to stir and warm the heart,
And through the years the embers from that fire
Will glow with light inflamed from that same start.
In the dark of night should a doubt arise,
A question of the road less traveled by,
Recall that same glow in a student’s eyes
Shall dispel the chill of questioning why.
You who labored in the classroom have learned
That rapport with student, colleague and friend
Offers recompense beyond wages earned.
You who loved the teacher’s task we commend:
May joy warm your heart and sustain you yet,
With memories of success and no regret.
hen I recall the teachers who have most impressed me and seek to
pay tribute to them, I recognize that many of them have been
amazingly versatile. Teaching demands flexible individuals who are able
to adapt quickly in an academic setting and perform a variety of functions, one of which is to be a motivator or coach. A number of years ago,
I offered a seminar “The Coach Approach: A Successful Teaching Model.”
Actually, I see myself as coach or exhorter, offering advice, tips and strategies for writing assignments that each student must complete individually. In composition and literature classes, my goal is to inspire students to
present the best writing they have completed thus far. Often I repeat the
slogan recited in my earlier school days: “Good, better, best! Never let it
W
54 | Thought & Action SUMMER 2003
rest until your good is better and your better is best!” Joe Dunn in his discussion of the teacher as coach notes, “Winning coaches demand high
levels of performance and must have well-rounded motivational skills.”4
One of the essential functions of the winning teacher/coach is that of
being a “recruiter.” According to Dunn, “Faculty members should seek
out talent as well. They should assist eagerly in the institution’s effort to
attract the best student body possible—their classroom ‘players’.”5
hose teachers who most affected
me “sparked” something that
drew me into teaching, and so I
endeavor to light the flame in others
and by my example draw them into
teaching, as I was drawn. Recently,
in a sense, I “recruited” my younger
daughter, who, after completing an
undergraduate degree in communications, is now working as a teacher
in middle school while pursuing
certification in language arts along
with a Master of Arts in Teaching
degree.
As one of the advisors to education majors with a language arts concentration, I am continually on the look out for prospective teachers. I am
particularly aggressive in terms of seeking out prospective teachers of
color to help offset the diminishing pool of minority teachers. In the
same way that an expert gemologist keeps a jeweler’s glass around his
neck when examining precious gems, I keep my eyes open, ever watchful
for those rare “blue diamonds” whose color adds to their value and rarity. Males who choose to go into education, at any level, are like precious
gems, but those exceptional students who select elementary education as
their choice are extremely rare and priceless, in my estimation.
As a writing instructor perhaps a more appropriate designation for me
would be “player coach” in that not only do I teach writing but I am a
writer as well. Likewise, I also classify myself as a “student-teacher” in that
I am continually discovering that there is so much to learn about the art
of teaching. Now that I think about it, I continue to play a variety of roles
as an educator: artist-student-teacher-player-coach, a kind of factotum in
education.
So after considerable reflection, my journey of discovery seems to culminate with a revelation of who I really am metaphorically: a griot. This
multifaceted character, an essential figure in many West African cultures,
is a village elder who fills a number of valuable roles: public servant to
the King, historian, genealogist, entertainer, poet, and magistrate, among
T
As a writing instructor
perhaps a more
appropriate designation
for me would be ‘player
coach’ in that not only
do I teach writing but I
am a writer as well.
THE NEA HIGHER EDUCATION JOURNAL | 55
other functions. Most significantly he is venerated as a teacher.
I conclude my reflective essay on my journey into education with this
poetic self-portrait:
I Am A Griot
"You can be who you want to be
when you find out who you are."
Cookin' Mama
Christian Rock Group
I am a griot.
I am a servant, bondslave in the service of the King, my father; a servant after the order of King David, from whom the Savior descended. Like
Jesus Christ, the King of Kings, I too am born of royal seed. Descendent
from countless generations, I am born of the seed of David. According to
the prophet Jeremiah:
As the host of heaven cannot be numbered, neither the sand of the sea
measured: so will I multiply the seed of David my servant, and the Levites
that minister unto me.
I am a griot.
I am a poet—psalmist—master of rhyme—master craftsman, wordsmith—an artificer seeking to forge with words this joy unspeakable, a
sonneteer, balladeer, crafting compositions flowing from the soul of a
man who swapped his lowdown blues for pure turquoise joys, choosing
to compose oral ointments and pouring pure, holy anointing oil to
soothe the soul, compounded after the art of the apothecary.
I am a griot.
I am a singer—conveying melodies heard in my inner ear—having
understood lyrics I did not know when I was young. . .I, too, sing my song
and hold no strife. . .knowing the best lines are yet to be sung; an entertainer, embodying the oral tradition, infusing music into my poetry, now
I see:
“I got the music in me! I got the music in me!
I got the music in me!”
I am a griot.
I am a genealogist—unraveling the begetting and the begotten—recollecting the forgotten—connecting fathers and sons and mothers and
daughters—more than a mediator—a daysman—ambassador extraordinaire—breaking it down and making it plain:
56 | Thought & Action SUMMER 2003
Wild young man, tell me, who's your daddy?
Wild young man, let me tell you who's your daddy.
Rescuing from oblivion the memories of great men and women of
humble means, never despising small beginnings; a raconteur, retelling
the stories of "Real Heroes" who never swell the ranks among annals of
recorded time; and declaring their line that goes forth from all the earth.
I am a griot.
I am an historian—a vessel of speech—a speaking document—a talking book—I let my life speak: listen to my life—page by page. "Your life
is a book and everyday is a page" thus spoke Elijah, the prophet; an
accoucher, attendant to the birthing of some of the many books implanted deep within us all; keeper of secrets, I unfold the mystery of history
and unveil the history of the Mystery—the crowning achievement, piece
de resistance, the masterpiece of “His story.”
I am a griot.
I am a teacher, and I teach because I love the teacher's task and find
my richest prize in eyes that open and minds that ask; a speaker of truthI speak the truth in love and create a space where the community of truth
is practiced, leaving behind a legacy to affect eternity.
I am a griot.
And so much more, and by the grace of God I am what I am.
In case you didn't know, now you know. Just call me griot.
I am a griot.
ENDNOTES
1
Parker J. Palmer, 71.
2
Robert Frost, 359.
3
William Vitek, np.
4
Joe P. Dunn, 1-2.
5
ibid, 1.
WORKS CITED
Dunn, Joe P. “The Winning Teacher: Metaphors from Coaching,” The Teaching Professor. 6
no. 9(1992): 1-2.
Frost, Robert. “Two Tramps in the Mudtime” in The Collected Poetry of Robert Frost. New
York: Holt, 1949.
Palmer, Parker J. To Know as We Are Known: Education as A Spiritual Journey. New York:
HarperCollins, 1993.
Vitek, William. “Reflections on the Teaching Art.” National Teaching and Learning Forum. 1
no. 6(1992): np.
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